


Red Light

by sexmurderparty



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: idk jacket cares a lot about hooker so., its not really a shipping fic but, no names used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexmurderparty/pseuds/sexmurderparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never get used to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Light

**Author's Note:**

> i recently got into hotline miami and jacket was very interesting to me and yep

He slowly awoke, the taste of booze and garlic salt still thick on his tongue. He glanced around the room, making sure he wasn’t dreaming. When he finally determined he wasn’t, he sighed and sat up, finding he was still in his clothes from last night. He must have been drinking until he passed out. Not that he exactly wanted to destroy his liver every night and constantly wake up with a hangover every morning, of course. But at least if he kept drinking until he was gone, he wouldn’t have to see everyone dying over and over again. That was the worst part about his job, really. (Could he call it a job? He wasn’t doing it of his own volition, and he certainly wasn’t getting any kind of compensation for it.) He was pleased for a second-he didn’t have any flashes of red blood or white bone in his head. But as the throbbing headache moved in, the images followed soon after. He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut, and felt the space around him as he stood up and tried making his way to the kitchen.

_Thunk._ “Fucking-!”  
His eyes snapped open and he hissed in pain-he’d stubbed his toe against the door of his room as he had been walking. He curled his toes until the pain ebbed away, and decided he would have to do this with full vision. He groaned, shuffling towards the kitchen, glancing over at the living room as he did. He hoped she was alright-she’d fallen asleep long before he had, and was clearly in a bad physical and mental state. That guy that had kept her like that...he was glad that he had killed him. So far, he was the only person he never apologized to before he did what he had to do. That was alright with him, he thought.

When he got to the kitchen, he filled a probably-clean cup with water and shotgunned it, exhaling heavily after he did. He then decided to stop pitying himself-he did this to himself, damn it-and walked as steadily as possible towards the living room to make sure she was okay.

He had only made it a few steps in, though, before he noticed the blinking red light on his answering machine, making his heart sink to his stomach and his breath catch in his throat. Shouldn’t he be used to this by now? No. He’d never get used to this. He’d never get used to these unknown people making him become a cold-blooded killer. Who even were they? Why did they want him to kill these people? He understood that the people he was being sent to weren’t saints themselves, but he didn’t think he needed to execute them so severely.

Not that that mattered anymore. The adrenaline was always so intense, so overwhelming, he couldn’t help himself. It always went away when they had all fallen, though. Whenever he stood amongst his carnage, his rush of pleasure quickly dissipated, and deafening silence roared in his head like a loud droning. He could easily call it a full crash from his high. Sometimes it took a long time for it to happen, and he only crashed once he got home, or once he got a few miles away from where he had been called to. That was the worst. He would be speeding down the highway, admiring the Miami atmosphere-and then suddenly what he had just done started sinking in, seeping into his skin and making his blood run cold.

He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing he couldn’t put it off for very long. He stepped forward, pressing the button to hear the message.

_“Hi, it’s ‘Kate’ from Hotline Miami’s dating service. We have set up a date for you this evening. She’ll be waiting for you at Southwest 53rd place. As usual, make sure you wear something fancy.”_

_Click._ He sighed, nodding to himself. He really...didn’t want to do this. But at the end of the day, he had to. There was no telling what would happen if he didn’t comply with their demands. He glanced over at her sleeping figure, frowning. Yeah. He had to. As though being led with invisible strings, he started towards the stairs, to his car.

His hands shook as he drove, and he looked at the Miami skyline as his brain resisted the rushes of natural speed. The adrenaline was already coursing through his veins despite his efforts, until he stopped at his destination. He turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt, looking at the rubber mask in the passenger seat. He’d have to start hiding these after this, he thought, grabbing it and pulling it over his head. He got out of the car, tugging the edge of the mask to ensure it stayed on as he walked to the door.

And then he kicked it in.

**Author's Note:**

> i just realized i fucked up and put the wrong phone call and,,,i am sorry


End file.
